Black Mad Wheel. Josh Malerman

Private Greer says, wiping his glasses clean.

      “Oh yeah?” Stein says, smiling, bringing the camera to his eye. “Says who?”

      The Danes look into the lens.

      “Some cultures believe that when you take a photo, you’re saying this period, this phase, is over with,” Greer explains. “So if you enjoy your life as it is, mourn. Because now it will be as it was.”

      Stein snaps the group photo.

      Lovejoy rises from the suitcase.

      “Gentlemen,” Mull says, clasping his hands together. “All aboard.”

       11

      Ellen watches from the doorway. She’s carrying a tray of food: vegetables, bread, tomato soup, water; lunch. She’d planned on entering with a joke, something spirited to liven Philip’s day, but when she sees him, she pauses.

      It’s the classical music, she thinks. The phonograph in the main office, just down the hall from Unit 1. The music is soothing, of course, but Philip, who is healing from so many broken bones, doesn’t need soothing.

      He needs a push.

      Ellen steps from the door just as Philip’s eyes seem to be straining to see who is in the hall. She carries the lunch tray to the office, enters, and places it upon the closest desk.